


growing pains

by tsuluio



Category: Cookie Run (Video Game), Original Work
Genre: Assassination, Car Accidents, Family Dynamics, Fluff and Angst, Growing Up, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, Minor Character Death, Modern Royalty, Multi, Telekinesis, bishop gets around too much haha, genderfluid rook aurelia, mention of sex workers, people make mistakes, transgender bishop aurelia, transgender latia aurelia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-15
Updated: 2020-09-15
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:14:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26473966
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tsuluio/pseuds/tsuluio
Summary: The shouts from the reporters are too much to handle, almost, and Rook half expects Bishop to shrink away from them as usual, but their brother's spine is straight, unrelenting, and stiff, almost like he's looking down on the reporters despite being shorter than most of them. He gets swallowed by the press in seconds, so much that Rook can't even see him anymore.They can't remember the last time he faced the press like that.The rift between them grows wider.
Relationships: Bishop & Rook





	growing pains

**Author's Note:**

> these are actually cookie run ocs but i made them original characters too since they seem like a separate universe at this point. also the main family is just based off chess pieces i'm sorry. they also have telekinesis. don't ask why.

"I'm the king!" eight-year-old Bishop announces from the floor of the living room, skirt splayed in a poofy mound around him as he takes the crown -- straight from the treasury -- and places it atop his head. The rest of his siblings, aged ten, four, and two, are scattered around the carpet, staring at the adornment in variances of awe. Rook can't take their eyes off of it. There's some semblance of power there, a power that the four-year-old can't identify, either because they're too young or because the crown is too shiny for them to discern any other thought. They reach out for it, and Bishop catches the movement, turning to face them.

"Do you want it?" The child takes the crown off his head and offers it to his younger sister, who eagerly grasps the shiny metal by the brim and tugs it towards them.

"Ah, you're going to hurt yourself!" Knight says -- as the oldest, they're all inclined to listen to her -- and she shuffles over on her knees to take the crown gently from Rook's hands and lift it on top of their head. 

The crown is much too large and slides down over Rook's eyes, making them giggle as they push it back up. The twins are staring in awe, Bishop is grinning, and Knight is giving Rook that soft smile that makes them feel special. 

The moment is ruined by their parents entering the room.

" _ Der Gotte _ ! Rook, darling, what are you doing?" The children all flinch, Bishop and Knight struggling to stand up quickly, but the twins merely giggle and fall backwards onto the floor, Rook still sitting with the oversized crown on their head and gaping like a fish. Their mother reaches them first and gently takes the crown off Rook's head. "You're too young to be playing with this, dear. And you, young lady, what did I say about the crown?"

Bishop looks rightfully ashamed. "To not give it to her."

"That's right." Their mother crosses her arms. "Do you have anything to say to your father and I?"

Bishop looks at the floor, and Rook suddenly feels upset. They feel like they did something wrong, but Bishop is the one getting in trouble, and anyway, they wanted the crown to begin with, but they aren't able to express any of their complicated feelings with anything except to start to silently cry as their mother and father wait for Bishop to speak.

"I'm--"

"In German," Lady Aurelia chides, and Bishop starts over, shrinking into himself with every word.

" _ Es tut mir leid _ , Mama," he mumbles, and his mother smiles in satisfaction.

"Good. King, you need to start the children on Japanese lessons."

"I was getting to it," Lord Aurelia says apologetically. "Shall I find a tutor?"

Lady Aurelia glances back at the rest of the children. "Yes," she says, catching sight of Rook, "Oh,  _ schatz _ , why are you crying?"

Rook scrubs at their eyes. They hadn't even noticed the tears, but they're dribbling down the front of their dress now, leaving stains in the fabric. Another thing that they shouldn't be doing is sitting on the floor anyway, but they feel too sad to stand up. "I dunno.."

"Well now's not the time to be crying, my dear, stand up," Lady Aurelia says briskly, producing a handkerchief and offering it to them before tugging them to their feet. She then turns to tend to the twins. " _ Meine liebe _ , when is the tutor coming?"

Their father checks his watch. "Twenty minutes," he says, and his wife gasps.

"Twenty minutes!  _ Der Gotte _ ! Children, we have to hurry!" She gestures for the hallway, scooping the twins up and hurrying out of the living room, Knight and Bishop trailing behind her. Rook reluctantly follows after them, feet dragging, still wiping their eyes.

They absolutely hate their tutoring lessons. Nothing against the tutors themselves, but they wish that they'd make it less boring so Rook can actually concentrate.

They're in the middle of nearly falling asleep once they've been quickly ushered into the room by their mother, until something taps against their skirt underneath the table. They look down to see golden paper, cut crudely into sharp points, resting against their knee, and they look up to meet Bishop's eyes. Their brother nods a little and smiles, and Rook takes the paper cautiously, holding it in their lap to see. It's a crown, a ring made from paper, but still sparkling in the sunlight streaming from the window. The points are a little crooked, but Rook thinks it's the most perfect thing they've ever seen. 

They're stopped from putting it on their head by their tutor entering the room, but they hold onto it through the entire lesson, heart sparking in joy. A crown for their very own. 

They don't need to verbalize a thank you to Bishop. Their smile is enough.

\--

Snowfall is rare, especially around these parts, but pulling all of their siblings outside for a snowball fight is even rarer. Both Knight and Bishop had, surprisingly, agreed to go play in the snow and now Rook is crouched beside their older brother as they scoop snow out of the ground. His movements are stiff and awkward, but Rook is too excited to car, practically vibrating as they snatch the snow and pack it into a ball.

"You're going down!" They call across the yard to where Knight and the twins are. They can barely see the three of them under the layers of coats and jackets, but they know they heard them by the rude gesture Latia gives Rook, only for Knight to clamp a hand over her younger sister’s. Bishop shakes his head in disapproval, but hands Rook a pile of snow, half of his face hidden by a woolen scarf.

“You take this,” he says, his breath freezing and hovering in the air between them for a split moment. “You’re better at--” he gestures vaguely, “--this than I am.”

Rook knows that’s a lie. They have seen the paper cranes decorating the ceiling of their brother’s bedroom. They know that Bishop’s hands are nimble and swift, well practiced both in the family craft and folding paper. But they shrug, smile happily, and take the snow from the other, compressing it into a ball. They’re too excited to care.

Their snowball-making is interrupted when Rook suddenly sees Knight and the twins scooping out a hole in the ground, pushing a layer of snow in front of them like a makeshift fort. Rook scrambles for the ground in front of them. “We gotta make a fort! Bishop!”

Their brother looks up, eyes drifting to their opponents before looking at Rook, who is on the verge of accidentally making snow angels with how fast and clumsily they’re digging. “Rook.”

They stop immediately, waiting eagerly for instructions.

“Move out of the way.”

They blink a little. Move? But why? And where?

“Over there.” Bishop points to the immediate left of them and Rook scooches over quickly, practically bouncing on the balls of their feet. What was Bishop going to do? Was he finally going to have fun? What if--

The snow in front of them suddenly lifts into the air, a swatch of it prodded forward into a mound, and Rook, eyes wide in amazement, looks back to see Bishop’s hands splayed slightly, eyes narrowed as he commands the snow to form a perfect wall in front of the two of them, smoothing out the remaining snow behind it. Latia, from the other side, sees it happen too.

“Knight!” she whines, “Bishop’s using his powers! We aren’t allowed to use them!”

Knight looks over as well, eyes questioning under her hat brim. Bishop smiles slightly and pulls down his scarf for his voice to carry over: “It was established we refrain from using it during the fight, not in preparation.”

His sister laughs. “It sounds like it’s fair, Latia.”

Latia groans and crosses her arms, pouting. Nolan merely looks amused, but hands her a snowball, prompting her to duck behind her barrier again. Rook beams and turns to their brother, who smiles back. “It looks like we’re outnumbered, Rook. Do you think we can still win this?”

“Yes!!” Rook bounces into the air, nearly crashing into the fort upon landing, and Bishop starts as if to steady them, but they spin away from him, laughing. “We can!”

Nolan chooses that moment to lob a snowball at them, which misses them by an inch; they squeal and duck behind the fort, yanking Bishop down beside them. “Gimme a snowball,” they yelp to their brother. He hands them one and Rook pops above the barrier, throwing as hard as they can at Latia’s emerging face, before flopping back down again, grabbing another snowball.

“You should throw one,” they suggest after they’ve decided to stop hailing Knight and the twins for a moment. Their face and hair are covered in snow, white dusting their shoulders and chest while only Bishop’s hat is coated in snow.

“I-I don’t know--”

“C’mon, it’s easy!” Rook insists, pointing to where the twins are scooping snow just beyond their barrier to make more snowballs. “You just throw it!” They hold out a pre-packed snowball, grinning in expectation. Bishop meets their gaze hesitantly before carefully taking the ball from their hands.

“...Alright.”

As with everything Rook has seen Bishop do, even throwing a snowball is methodical, like he’s been practicing for some big test no one knew about. Normally they’d wait patiently, but Bishop is going so slow, you’re not supposed to throw a snowball like that, you’re supposed to--

They remember that Bishop doesn’t like criticism, so they stop. Picking on their brother won’t get anywhere, and anyway, they want him to throw the snowball. But the longer they wait, an idea starts to fester in their mind. They glance down at the snow beneath them and quietly scoop up a handful, before lunging for their brother and shoving whatever they can down the back of Bishop’s coat. Bishop yelps and twists around, eyes wide, but when he sees Rook standing there, the snow still on their hands, they narrow almost playfully.

Latia, drawn out by the noise, pokes her head from behind her fort to see.

“Friendly fire!” Rook yells and scoops up a handful of snow, throwing it towards Bishop, but their brother simply flicks the hand not holding the snowball and telekinetically blocks it so it falls to the ground.

“My turn.” His attack comes flying out of nowhere, a fastball that nails Rook in the face hard enough to send them back a couple steps, laughing, snow splattering everywhere. Bishop grins, only for a snowball to splash against his coat shoulder, Knight sheepishly holding up her hand as the culprit.

The twins, not two to be left out, pick up their own snowballs and hurl it at no one in particular, and it takes exactly two seconds before the organized snowball fight becomes a free-for-all. Knight lifts up half of the twin’s stock of snow and hurls it at Bishop, who manages to block most of it, but not all of it, telekinetically packing the remaining snow into a ball and sending it spinning into the back of Nolan’s head as xe is struggling to force snow down the front of Rook’s coat. Latia bodily tackles Knight, sending them both into a snow drift; they emerge covered in snow and Rook, still pinned by Nolan, bursts out laughing.

Somewhere in the middle of it all, Bishop’s scarf had come undone, Knight’s hat lost somewhere in the yard, Rook’s hair so coated with snow that it was almost completely white, and the twins’ coats soaked with melted snow.

The tension that constantly resided in the older siblings had vanished completely, and Rook watches in delight as Knight manages to get an edge on Bishop and blinds him enough to gesture to Rook frantically. Rook gets the message and launches themself at their brother, arms wrapping tightly around him. Their weight sets Bishop off balance and the two of them fall into the snow, laughing. The twins and Knight join them after a moment and they all lay there together for a moment to catch their breath.

“What is all this?”

The voice is sharply familiar, and Bishop sucks in a breath, sitting up so quickly that Rook falls off of him, tumbling into Latia. Knight also scrambles to her feet, snow falling off her in chunks as their mother bears down on them.

And it’s over just like that. Bishop and Knight are forcefully reprimanded, brushed off and dragged back into the house, leaving just Rook and the twins standing alone in the snow covered yard.

“I wish they could play more,” Nolan says finally, expression wistful. “Mom is so mean to them.”

“Yeah,” is all Rook can say in response. “I’m going back inside,” they add, and the twins silently follow them back to the house, the snow that lightly rested on their shoulders and heads now heavy and disgustingly wet.

\--

Japanese is boring, Rook realizes. Every class they attended usually ended in them falling asleep and someone kicking them awake under the table. 

Not that they can complain. The teacher was a jerk sometimes, but Rook assumes the accusations of being dumb are probably true.

If they were going to be dumb, they mused, they might as well just be so dumb that no one bothered to try to teach them anything. So they start to skip class.

"Rook! Come down from there!" Bishop shades his eyes against the harsh sunlight, staring up into the tree where his sibling clung to stubbornly, their roughed-up stockings on display for the whole world to see. 

"I'm not going to class!" Rook yells back, and Bishop just sighs audibly.

"Why not?"

"Because if I'm gonna be dumb, I'll just be dumb!"

Bishop's expression shifts a little at that, but Rook is too far away to see.

There's a long pause.

"I'm not going to make you go."

Rook blinks. "Really?"

"Yes, really." Bishop offers them a stack of papers. "Come down, please."

Rook hesitates before untangling their arms from the branch they're holding onto, beginning the unsteady descent to their older brother. Bishop watches them fumble down the tree, noting Rook's torn skirt and dirtied blouse, but says nothing when they finally reach him. "Here."

Rook takes the stack, squinting. "What is it?"

"Conjugation homework," Bishop says and his sibling's eyes widen in disbelief, "but I can help you if you'd like."

"Ugh..." Rook sticks out their tongue, ignoring the disapproving stare from the other. "Do I gotta?"

"Yes. If the instructor reports you to Mother and Father, they will be upset. This will help tide them over."

Rook stares at the papers for a minute. The words on there are already indecipherable, but the prospect of spending more time with their brother wins away any doubts. "...Fine."

Bishop smiles a little. "Good. Would you rather work out here?"

"Yeah! Let's go under Mom's favorite tree!" Rook grabs Bishop's wrist in a surprising display of mood change, dragging him across the lawn to the looming tree in the distance. They might not remember the lesson afterwards, but their schedule shifts so that everyday, Bishop comes outside to help them with their Japanese, carefully repeating the same phrases from the week before so Rook can at least pretend to remember it.

And they don't appreciate it enough until Bishop becomes too busy to help them and Rook is left waiting outside, the tree bare and cold.

They cry the first time their brother doesn't show, not quite understanding the emotion, not quite knowing of the reasons why their gut now is tinged with guilt, acutely aware of the phrases from the day before already fading from their memory.

But they wipe their tears easily, convinced of their dramatism, because Bishop would come back to help them the next day right? He just forgot, he would remember tomorrow, right?

He never did.

\--

They’re at a fancy party, and Rook is bored out of their mind. Adult parties were never their thing, and usually the Aurelia children spent their time exploring the house or playing tag around everyone’s feet. But as they had gotten older, Bishop and Knight had drifted to the adults more and engaged some in conversation more often than not.

“They’re too old to play with us,” Nolan observes, as xe, xir twin and Rook sat together on the stairs, watching the party.

“No they aren’t!” Latia protests. She points to where Bishop and Knight are surrounded by adults. “They’re too short to be that old!”

Her siblings giggle at that.

“You think they should come play then?” Rook asks.

“Well Knight’s too nice to play, but Bishop should! He hasn’t played with us in ages.” Latia swings her feet aimlessly. “Rook, you should ask.”

The middle child is already sliding off from their place on the stairs. “I was gonna anyway.”

Navigating the various suits and skirts is a hard task, but somehow Rook manages to find Bishop and grasp him by the arm, breaking off a conversation and successfully dragging their brother away to an abandoned corridor.

Bishop carefully removes his arm from Rook’s grip, expression vaguely annoyed. “Did you need something, Rook?”

“No. Yes.” Rook takes a deep breath. Bishop seems like he’s getting further away from them everyday, and they’re scared of losing him, to be honest. That was one reason why they agreed to try to convince him. “Can you play with Latia, Nolan, and me?”

Bishop gives them a strange look. “Play?”

“Yeah!” They have a weird sinking feeling in their stomach now, but they don’t know why. “Like we used to, remember?”

“I don’t think I can--”

“C’mon please?” Rook bounces on the balls of their feet, ignoring the plummeting feeling. “It’s been forever and ever and  _ ever _ and we miss playing with you!”

Bishop frowns a little. “This is an adult party, Rook. I can’t play with you.”

Rook stops bouncing. “But you said! Remember that time when you said to just think of parties as a big fun game to make sure you’re not bored--”

“That was a long time ago.”

“But still!” Frustration rises in Rook’s chest.  _ Why _ is Bishop acting this way? They understand he’s formal, they understand he is a big kid now, but why can’t he play with them like he used to? Getting him out of the house is already a hard feat but he was always willing to play along if they succeeded. “You said--”

Bishop cuts him off. “Well I am saying now that this isn’t a game, Rook. It’s never been a game,” The fierceness in his voice is enough to make Rook stop short. It’s barely above a whisper, but Bishop looks upset, angry even. Bishop has never gotten mad with Rook past exasperation, but right now, he looks like he’s about to explode. “You need to  _ grow up _ .”

It’s a small thing. It’s a simple thing. It’s three sentences, but that’s all it takes for Rook’s eyes to prickle with a familiar searing heat. Coolness trickles down their cheeks and they watch through tears as Bishop’s expression shifts into something of guilt and alarm. Their own chest twists.  _ They’re _ the one who is making Bishop feel this way. Crying makes him uncomfortable,  _ they’re making him uncomfortable. _ The realization makes them cry harder, silently gasping for air as they back away from their brother.

“Rook, I’m sorry--” He’s reaching for them now, eyes uncertain but pleading, but Rook can barely think.

They don’t know why they keep moving away from their brother when the easy thing is to embrace him, but when Bishop advances, they take a step back, more and more until they’re almost running away from him, racing blindly through the corridors and the ballroom to the exit, sobs tearing from their throat. They crash into the buffet table and overturn something, liquid splashing on their elbow. They catch sight of their mother coming to intercept them, but they keep running, noting that Bishop’s footsteps following them stop right as they burst through the heavy double doors and into the night.

They don’t know how long they stay out there, shivering and wiping their eyes, rocking back on the balls of their feet until the double doors open again and the guests start to trickle out, exchanging hearty goodbyes. The remainder of the Aurelia family is the last to leave, Knight immediately going to Rook’s side and wrapping them in a hug.

She bends over them, hair tickling their face as she whispers, “Are you alright?”

Rook nods silently, eyes drifting to where their family is waiting. The twins are watching them sympathetically, but Bishop refuses to meet their gaze. Even in the moonlight, they can see a bruise blossoming on his right cheek, one that has the same size and shape as the ring on their mother’s right hand.

Knight keeps them wrapped into her side as they walk home, the twins keeping pace on either side. Their parents walk in front, stiff backs and proper form, Bishop isolated between the two groups, back unusually hunched and arms crossed over his stomach. Rook manages to escape from Knight’s grasp and walk alone, nearly on Bishop’s heels, but the apology that had been burning in their throat dies as Bishop walks faster.

No one talks the entire way home.

\--

(In hindsight, maybe Rook never bothered to understand Bishop properly, in the same way that Bishop could never understand them.)

\--

Bishop likes to play the piano with his eyes closed, with the dignified explanation that he'd rather live in the music than above it. 

Which is a lie.

He doesn't make mistakes when he plays; he doesn't allow for any. His existence is a state of hierarchy in his mind, and though he knows it not to be true, it's enforced upon his soul to the point of overwork and exhaustion, the countless nights unseen by the rest of his family where he plays silently on his bedspread, fruitful in the gatherings brought by his parents, with praise such as "Oh, my daughter is so talented! She just learned all these pieces two days ago!"

He doesn't bother to tell them anything. Nothing about the correction of gender, nothing about the correction of how long it took him to learn these pieces. 

Because he wasn't born smart. 

Rook was born smart, he knows, but Rook is the type to waste away their talent climbing trees without making any effort.

But to Bishop, effort is everything.

Rook can pick up easily on things they're interested in, like card tricks, sleight of hand, things that no one can master in such a short amount of time, but Rook's coordination slims itself into a fine point with these things and masters them quickly. 

Knight is more overall smart, the responsible brain, the one able to keep tasks and lists in her brain to pull out at the right moment. She has no trouble in studies because she is awake and alert and takes notes and genuinely is interested in everything. 

The twins are the science brains, still with terrible impulse control (and Bishop won't be surprised if they summon a monster one day) but with smartness nevertheless. Their memories are sharp and observant and if they get pushy, they will find a way to get what they want, because their strategies are so overlined that they practically have it in their hand before they say they want it.

But Bishop? Bishop doesn't know who he is. He just knows he needs to put in all he can for everything because his status hasn't come without a price, and he knows of his title. Heir to the family. He's the heir, skipping entirely over Knight because of the latter disinterest. His skills are minimal at best, coming down to extreme practice in order to get him on top, which he barely considers a skill anyway. 

So when he plays the piano, he closes his eyes and visualizes himself playing at midnight, fingers desperately flipping through sheet music at four in the morning, matching his movements to well-practiced ones, over and over, and over.

\--

(And maybe if Bishop could tear the walls down around his heart and mind, his family wouldn't have to fight so hard to keep him close)

\--

They watch the news replay, watch the car containing their parents flip over three times, crash into a sign post, and burst into flames, all the while consumed in a blank numbness.

Latia is gripping Rook so hard that they're sure she'll tear their sleeve and break their skin, but they say nothing, eyes transfixed on the screen. Their body feels weightless, suspended on the couch by some celestial force, and they're grateful for whoever thought of keeping them upright because if they moved a single inch, they'd pass out right there. Nolan is staring at the screen, eyes horrifically wide and hands covering his mouth. Knight looks like she's about to cry or scream or both, and Bishop is unnaturally pale, eyes reflecting the burning car on the TV screen. 

The camera has moved away from the wreckage, overwhelmed by the multitude of emergency vehicles, to the reporter who stands to the side, looking adequately horrified, but detached. Her words on the accident come through Rook's ears like it's through bubble wrap, reduced to a muffled static.

_ "And we regret to inform the viewers that Lord and Lady Aurelia as well as two of their employed servants and chauffeur have been involved in a serious car crash. We are not sure if the occupants are alive and we send our well wishes out to their health and their family, in hopes they will recover--" _

The TV flickers off, leaving the noble family reflected in the blank screen, like ghosts. Knight's reflection is holding the TV remote before she drops it onto the coffee table, the noise startling them all. 

"Sorry," she murmurs.

They sit in silence for a moment longer before the phone rings, startling them all again. Bishop stands, still remarkably pale. "I'll answer it."

Rook doesn't understand why they suddenly feel like forcefully dragging Bishop away from the phone. Maybe because they're scared of what will happen once Bishop does answer it, like news of their parents or reporters or something else entirely. Maybe because their parents could be okay and that was just some other fancy car getting hit and some other noble family who had to deal with the aftermath. 

Or maybe because deep down they know that their parents wouldn't have survived the crash and with the deaths of Lord and Lady Aurelia came Bishop's turn for power. 

And Rook isn't sure if the remaining members of their family would endure that.

Bishop picks up the phone on its third ring. "Hello?"

He listens intently to whoever is on the other end; his expression betrays no emotion, but Rook can see his entire body tense up, a response that means nothing good.

"Yes, yes, I understand. No. Thank you.”

He hangs up and turns back to his expecting family, and Rook has to admire his ability to keep his voice from wavering. 

“Mother and Father are dead.”

And just like that, Rook's whole life changes.

\--

They're greeted by a stream of reporters, and Rook nearly chokes on a microphone that gets thrust into their face.

"Rook Aurelia! How does it feel knowing your parents are dead?"

Dead. Their parents are dead. They know it happened but hearing it from a stranger cuts deeper than anyone else's would. Dead, dead,  _ dead _ . As in never coming back. Never  _ ever _ . 

They're hyperventilating, but the microphone jabs closer, too close. Knight steps in and cuts them off, and Rook falls back gratefully, breathing hard. The reporters turn on their sister instead.

"Miss Knight! Are you planning on stepping up as heir of the Aurelia household? How are you going to handle all your affairs with your business while attending to the nobles?"

Knight smiles, but it's strained and a bit cold. "I will not be taking over as heir--"

The commotion around her increases, interrupting her, but she talks louder. 

"My brother, Bishop, will be the one to handle everything."

The shouts from the reporters are too much to handle, almost, and Rook half expects Bishop to shrink away from them as usual, but their brother's spine is straight, unrelenting, and stiff, almost like he's looking down on the reporters despite being shorter than most of them. He gets swallowed by the press in seconds, so much that Rook can't even see him anymore.

They can't remember the last time he faced the press like that.

The rift between them grows wider.

\--

People keep telling Bishop that he's like his father. Some tell him that he's like his mother, that they can see her in his eyes. He wonders if it's supposed to make him feel better. It doesn't.

He's not an emotional person. Or rather, not someone who's emotional on the surface. He knows how to push everything down, deep deep down, so no one sees him for anything but the representative of the noble house Aurelia. But mentions of his parents send his stomach into knots, twisting tighter, so hard that he's sure that it might snap if he hears one more comparison to the two dead parents looming before him.

He specifically orders for their room not to be cleaned out. It hurts too much to remember, but it'll hurt more to forget. Sometimes, when he's alone, he sits there on the bed, staring at the closet door, wondering if they could just walk into the room somehow, and hug him and tell him that their death didn't suddenly bring about the burden of responsibilities that came with every passing moment. 

But they never show. 

Andrea is a person of genius intellect and the promise that she'll help Bishop however she can. She's educated with political affairs, and Bishop doesn't know her well, but his parents did, so there's nothing wrong with trusting her.

Or so he thinks.

\--

When a hand travels too low to his belt, anxiety takes over and he tells Andrea to stop. 

She doesn't.

\--

And Bishop lets it happen.

He doesn't tell anyone. Because it was his fault anyway.

\--

When rumors start to spiral that Bishop is worse than his parents, a failure who shouldn't be leading the house, Andrea convinces Bishop the only way to save the family is to cut Rook off indefinitely. 

"It'll make you feel better," she says.

"Rook is just making things worse," she says.

"Remember the time they challenged Lord Enuay to a chess game?" she says.

Bishop's head hurts from stress and indecision, and he trusts Andrea enough. Things might be better afterwards.

They aren't.

\--

Rook gets a phone call in the middle of the night, and they have to sit on the college dorm floor as a very nice lady that they don't even know tells them that their brother just cut them off.

Bishop couldn't even phone them himself to tell them. 

For some reason, it doesn't hurt as much as it should.

\--

Andrea dislocates his shoulder from a cabinet that just "happened to be in the way", and Knight has to step in, to say it's too much. Andrea is dismissed.

Bishop hasn't cried in years, but nothing lasts forever. Not even his reputation. Thankfully, Knight doesn't seem to mind, but guilt still riddles his mind.

Maybe if he was more like his parents, Andrea wouldn't have done this.

\--

Rook learns to make a living. Being a sex worker is the new thing for them, but they have the motivation and stamina for it. No one recognizes them as a former noble, and they're just fine with it. Their new name is Kado Sonne, anyway, and they have the ID to prove it.

The cash is worth it, which is the deal breaker, but they pack up every night, without a place to go. The bruises on their neck and arms and legs tell a million stories of forgotten lovers, because their too-big heart makes it impossible to just..  _ not _ crush on everyone they meet. 

And none of them meet the standards of being a decent person, at least until they meet Half.

\--

The stress piles on, and Bishop feels like he's drowning. But he maintains his stoicness, his politeness, barely concealing the turmoil in his body. 

It's what the public wants. It's like they're just waiting for him to mess up so he can be put on the headlines again for an exaggerated mockery of an article.

He's no stranger to romance. He had never gone courting because his parents forced him to have a line of suitors, all of which he fell for too soon. So he's not a stranger to it, to the giving part of love. But he's unfamiliar in it being returned in a way he could adapt to. Because no matter how many people came to him, there was always something off with their relationship, like he's trying to fit a square peg in a circle hole, and it never fit well enough for them to last longer than two months.

Which is why he's telling himself that the private investigator that had come knocking on his door for something about Rook (probably) doing something outlandish is just some stupid crush. 

So he pushes it to the side and forgets about it.

\--

And he struggles to forget it still when he allows the PI to come back later. The twins have entertained them for the majority of their visit anyway, and Bishop can only hope they didn't give away anything incriminating, but the two barge into his study after Coffee leaves, eyes sparkling.

"They're super cool!" Latia insists, her eighteen-year-self still so overwhelming childish. "They're all like--" She pauses to mimic Coffee's facial expression, and Nolan laughs. Bishop only stares at her. Undeterred, she presses on.

"But they listen  _ super _ well. How old are they? You two should--"

He cuts her off before his heart can physically crawl out of his chest and strangle him to death. "No."

Double pouts, from both of them. Nolan's the one to follow up, this time.

"Okay, but think about it, okay? They're like straight out of a noir film, it's insane! The aesthetic is perfect!"

"Plus did you see they were literally going to  _ bow _ to you, isn't that crazy? As if you're worth bowing to!" Latia pipes up. Her eyes are glinting now, and Bishop knows that as his cue to shove them both towards the door. He's really going to die today.

Still he hears the final "We're going to matchmake you to hell, y'know?" before slamming the door shut.

He isn't going to make it past this week.

\--

Unfortunately, no sudden death becomes him in the next week, and he suddenly finds himself at a coffee shop (oh, the  _ mockery _ ) face to face with the PI themself. Coffee had issued the invitation, and Bishop honestly wondered how utterly absurdly pained they had to be to do this anyway. He wishes his social status wasn't just something available to anyone and everyone, but unfortunately when you're the face and name of Aurelia and live in the most conspicuous house in what feels like the world, it's not something he can avoid. Not that he had a choice anyway.

To make matters worse, Coffee actually insists on kissing his hand, and Bishop feels like he's going to die there in the middle of some tiny coffee shop on an unknown street. 

He's used to people treating him in formality, but it's never people on the streets, and somehow when Coffee does it, it's twenty times worse. Not that it's a bad thing because Bishop wouldn't have minded (or maybe enjoyed it in another life) but it's like his brain is melting into his throat and he also wouldn't have minded if the ground opened up right there and swallowed him whole, status be damned. And he's not big on vulgarity (Rook used to try to get him to say swears, and the memory clogs his lungs a little) but honestly, fuck whatever god of fate decided to bring them together. 

Literally.

Funnily enough, the rest didn't go half as bad as the beginning. Coffee is gone with a slight nod and Bishop ignores the calls from his chauffeur as he opts to walk back home himself.

Latia and Nolan immediately call it a date when he gets back, which Bishop shuts down before he can die a second time that day. This time, it requires the use of his telekinesis to kick them both out of his office.

\--

Half is something of a roommate, Rook can say that well enough. They hide their telekinesis for the most part, because it'd be weird to scare your roommate at 3am while levitating luggage from the shelves. But the two get along enough, if it isn't for the crushing feeling that wells inside their chest.

There's some weird correlation between him and this other guy, Moon, who ironically only appears on full moons, and Rook gets the feeling that the two are related somehow. So they keep their distance and observe, struggling to keep away the painfully familiar feelings of a crush. Two crushes, actually, but they don't want to think too much about it. 

They're reminded vaguely of Bishop, the continuous lines of suitors, and the never-ending heartbreak. For some reason, their stomach twists and they push the memory away.

\--

(And through some twist in fate, Rook learns the truth about the two, about the same time Bishop is learning to deal with his own feelings. The parallels are unknown to one another, but they're there, a reminder of their connections, no matter how much they hide it.)

\--

Bishop hates watching his parents die. The nostalgia of it is almost overwhelming and he's almost absolutely sure it's why his dreams are plagued with fire, explosions, and screaming, almost more than he can handle. 

But it's replaying on the news tonight, for some damn reason, and there's something in the frame for a split second that makes him stop, pause, and rewind. 

He's no Rook, whose investigation skills could probably rival Coffee themself, but he knows the barrel of a gun when he sees one.

\--

Lord and Lady Aurelia were assassinated. Rook sees it on the news one day, and their whole body locks together, mind blank in shock. Years after they died, the case was finally brought to light by none other than their own brother, the one who estranged them two years ago.

It's not an accident, it was a plan. A plan to kill their parents, to get rid of the Aurelia bloodline, though the children were spared. But why?

Rook remembers the words that their parents said to them. Something about not taking the children because Bishop and Knight had to finish their studies. If they had gone, if all of them had piled into the car together, they would've all died. 

Every single one.

And while assassination attempts aren't lost on them -- they can vaguely recall Knight telekinetically throwing a man with a gun into a wall -- this one punches them in the gut and stays there, a reminder of their loss.

They could've all died. Bishop, Knight, them, the twins. The realization is enough to make them miss their family for the first time in a while.

\--

Knight and the twins are the first to find Rook, most likely because of that private investigator who inspected the casino where they worked. But whatever the reason, whatever rules kept them apart now broke as their siblings flooded their apartment, chattering eagerly. 

Rook smiles for the first hour before realizing something is missing. Or rather, someone.

"Where's Bishop?"

\--

He refused to go visit Rook. The guilt has piled too high for him to face them in front of the rest of their family. 

Which is why he's standing in front of them now, in his office, the door locked behind them. Rook seems a bit nervous, fingers twisting into the hem of their apron, and Bishop looks them over, taking in how much they've changed. 

It's not a surprise, really. They seem tired, a bit awkward, but the childish energy beneath it is still simmering. There's hope in their eyes, hope that makes Bishop's gut twist. He's supposed to be the older brother, the one to help and protect his younger siblings, the example set by all the adults. 

But now they're both adults on different paths, and Bishop realizes that he will never get Rook to be like him. Andrea had set him to the decision, yes, but his own mind tried to shove Rook into a box, to get them to be better, more efficient, to understand their potential. 

With their sibling standing in front of him now, after years of being out of contact, Bishop feels like his eyes are just being opened now. Like he'd been blinded for so long, trying to get his sibling to be something they were not, that he never truly appreciated Rook for what they were. 

The guilt is overriding his brain now, but he can't speak for whatever reason.

\--

Rook is waiting for Bishop to start talking. They assume that's the proper thing to do, because Bishop is the head of the family now, and they've been gone for so long they forgot how Bishop was, minus the formality. 

But they want to hug Bishop right now, because even after all this time, they know their brother enough to see that he's going through every second of his life and regretting it. Their family used to joke that whenever Bishop got a serious look on his face, anything could be happening beneath the surface and no one would know.

Rook took it as a challenge to read their brother more, to learn the vague shifts in expression, the eyes, the lips, everything. And now, standing in front of him, after two entire years, Bishop hasn't seemed to change in any way at all. Except for the fact that he looked like he was going to cry.

Rook can't stand the silence any longer.

"I'm sorry." They both speak at the same time, pause and then Rook laughs, drawing out a hesitant smile from Bishop. 

"Why are you sorry?" he asks, and Rook shakes their head. 

"Just let me apologize, okay?" 

Bishop bites his lip, but nods anyway.

"I should've tried to grow up before. Or at least recognized you needed me to because--"

Bishop cuts him off. "Well I shouldn't have tried to force you."

Rook blinks in surprise. "What?"

"I shouldn't have tried to force you to grow up," Bishop says firmly, and there's a flicker there of the leader their brother was supposed to be, and Rook tilts their head in question. Bishop sees it, thankfully, and elaborates. "You were a kid. And you just wanted to play, I know that now. I think I let... my own expectations for myself override my expectations for you and I shouldn't have done that. I also shouldn't have cut you off like that. It was entirely my fault and I'm sorry, Rook, for whatever you suffered through at my expense."

Rook opens his mouth to speak, but Bishop, seemingly determined to get everything out first, keeps talking. "I also don't expect you to forgive me. Nor do you have to understand my side--"

"I do understand," Rook says, and Bishop looks slightly taken aback. "I get what you had to do and that's why I'm apologizing too. Also I forgave you along that time when I was a sex worker, so it's all good."

Bishop's eyes widen. "You were a sex worker?"

"Yeah." Rook sees the guilt washing back in and hastens to explain. "But it was fine, okay? I did some thinking and it wasn't your fault. It's probably Mom and Dad's for raising us like that."

They half expect Bishop to chastise him for speaking ill of the dead, but they're surprised to see Bishop nod a little in agreement. 

"Plus, it was kinda fun," Rook adds, as a little jab of humor, just to see how the other would react.

To their relief, Bishop just sighs and rolls his eyes, reminiscent of their childhood days. "I can't say I expected any less."

"It was, okay?" Rook is grinning now, happy that this is going way better than they expected. "I got a ton of sex--"

"Rook!"

"--No, listen, it was great, alright? It was  _ sex _ \--"

"I get that it's sex, Rook, but how does that--"

"--Let me finish okay? I work at a casino now, might've stolen some stuff, but it's fine, and I have like three partners now--"

"You  _ stole _ ?" Bishop looks more exasperated than mad. "Why would you steal something?"

"It wasn't me," Rook elaborates, though their brother looks unconvinced, "but I probably sent a private investigator to your door, ha, sorry."

At the words 'private investigator,' Bishop's expression changes slightly. Rook catches it easily, but misinterprets it for annoyance. "Wait, I did?"

"You did, yes."

"Well did you, like, out me or anything?"

"No, because I wasn't aware you were  _ stealing _ things, Rook."

"It wasn't my fault, like I said. But anyway, I'm the one apologizing right now. Sorry about everything, really. Especially the private investigator part, 'cause I know you've been busy lately."

Bishop coughs. "Actually, I should thank you for sending them after your records."

Rook raises an eyebrow. "Why?" The other's eyes flick away for a moment, and the thief's mouth hangs open in astonishment. "Oh  _ no _ , you didn't just hook up with the guy who held me for two hours under questioning. You're hopeless."

"Says the person with three partners," Bishop says, though his cheeks are a bit too heated to be making any proper comebacks now. "But I forgive you."

"Oh, wait really?" Rook bounces on the balls of their feet now, relief overtaking them into joy. "Can I hug you now?"

Bishop looks at them in surprise, and they backtrack, remembering this guy is in charge of a whole slew of political affairs, even if he's their brother. "I mean y'know it's been two years so I kinda wanted to--"

Their brother lets them stutter out excuses for a solid two seconds before he crosses the room to envelop them in a hug.

\--

Bishop is now just understanding how much he  _ missed _ Rook. The banter is slightly different now, as is their relationship, and nothing can fix the past, but it can get  _ better.  _

And so better it gets.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading!! i love these idiot chess pieces with my whole life. it's taken me three days to write this ;; im going to sleep for a year now


End file.
